


Beautiful

by Sheytsa



Series: Dancehall, Beautiful [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Consent but no prenegotiation of the scene, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Moral Trauma (background), Nostalgia, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pretend It's The First Time, Pretend Shrinkyclinks?, Roleplay, Sleepy Sex, Undernegotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 13:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12277122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheytsa/pseuds/Sheytsa
Summary: Bucky - Soldier - Bucky couldn’t take Steve’s eyes on him right now. But he wanted to make up for lost time.





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sleepy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243030) by [Dira Sudis (dsudis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis). 



The soldier slipped into the room where the man was sleeping. The man didn’t wake. He made a little noise: alpha-rhythm sleep, not-quite waking, not quite vigilant enough. You never knew what might slip in from out of these trees.

The soldier would know: he’d slipped in from out of the trees. He’d ghosted through the forest cover, underbrush and canopy, making sure there was nothing like him lurking there. Nothing to threaten this man, or his people. Just the women on watch, panther-silent and near invisible. Some were invisible, and some had spotted him: good. He didn’t have to be the soldier in this room.

He closed the door behind him, dropped the soldier from his shoulders, and tugged on the old friend like a pair of slippers and a faded housecoat. Tiptoed toward the bed; Steve was not for stalking. 

He held still at the bedside. The room was a constellation of little charger lights, green and orange and blue and white, reflecting off the walls and bathing his face into something rich and strange. Coulda been shafts of streetlights, in the old days. On a misty night, maybe.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and stretched his hand over the covers. Steve’d pushed them down to his hips; the room wasn’t drafty, and they weren’t hurting for means to keep the night chill out, so that was alright. Steve shifted, eyes fluttering, the moment he felt the touch at his waist.

“Sssh,” Bucky whispered. “Don’t wake up. I stayed out too late, ’m glad you didn’t wait up for me.”

Steve made a breathy sound, his head flopping towards Bucky’s voice.

“That’s right,” Bucky crooned softly. He smoothed his hand down Steve’s stomach. He leaned in. Gently, gently, he lifted Steve’s shorts away from his sleepy erection.

Steve made another sleepy sound, worry line between his eyebrows.

“Sssh, I told you. Don’t wake. I didn’t want you to wait up for me. I’m sorry I stayed out, though. Let me make it up to you.” Bucky knelt by Steve’s knees. He slid his hand up the center line of Steve’s body, leaning up until he could brush the points of Steve’s collarbones with his fingertips. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed. “I never told you. Every time I’d be out at some dancehall, I’d have one eye back here, imagining you laid out like this - that roughed-up smartaleck mouth all soft, for once, the light catchin’ in your eyelashes like that. Always lookin’ at me like you could see right into me - what I might be brave enough to do, without your eyes on me.” 

He stroked Steve back down, real slow.

He nosed at the hair just under Steve’s waistband. Let out his breath on Steve’s sleep-hard cock.

Steve shifted again, like he really wanted to wake up this time. 

“Sssh. Stevie.” He reached up until he could touch the side of Steve’s face, but he kept his body low. “Lemme take care a you. Please?” He brushed his thumb over Steve’s lips; brushed his lips over Steve’s groin. “Shoulda done this years ago -  _ years _ ago. All those years. Lemme make ’em up to you.”

Steve paused a long moment, head held tense against Bucky’s hand. 

Bucky couldn’t breathe for waiting.

Steve pressed a thoughtful breath of a kiss to Bucky’s thumb. Then he leaned his cheek into Bucky’s fingers, and gave the minutest of nods.

“Ohhh, Stevie. Thank you. You won’t regret it, I promise.” He brought his hand back to Steve’s waist and tugged Steve’s shorts down just far enough to give him some room. 

He nosed his way through Steve’s hair. He brushed his lips and tongue up Steve’s length. “Stevie, God, you smell so good.” 

\- And he would never get tired of the way Steve’s cock twitched against his mouth, never, ever,  _ ever. _ Like getting an orange when he hadn’t seen the sun in months, or any color but white and gray: he  _ needed _ it with his whole body, he didn’t know if he wanted to stretch it out as long as possible or gobble it fucking down.

Bucky can have oranges whenever he wants, now. He opened up his mouth and took Steve in. 

_ Yes, yes, yes, that’s it, yes. _ Steve felt so fucking perfect, felt like home in Bucky’s mouth. Bucky slid up again, swirling his tongue, and settled into a leisurely rhythm.

Steve was making happy little wet-dream sounds, hips rolling like the surf on a hot, still day. Bucky glanced up; Steve’s eyes were still closed,  _ thankyouthankyouthankyou. _ Bucky - Soldier - Bucky couldn’t take it, Steve’s eyes on him, not now. But Steve kept his eyes closed, just like he’d asked; one slack hand brushed a random spot on Bucky’s shoulder, and oh, that could melt all the ice in Siberia, the way his Stevie was trying so hard for him. It was perfect; Bucky could almost believe it. He gave Steve’s hip a gentle squeeze, then wrapped his hand around Steve’s shaft and really got down to it. He sucked harder, took Steve a little deeper (shifted his knees around under him to get a better angle), ruffled his tongue along the underside of Steve’s cock. Tried to return the warmth blooming in his chest; pictured it filling his mouth and pouring onto him, sinking into Steve’s skin.

Steve whined, open-mouthed and desperate, then got real, real quiet. Close. God. A shot of heat went through Bucky like adrenaline from a bottle: Steve likes it, it’s good, Bucky’s mouth, he’s the one to give Steve this.  _ Him. _ Bucky slid his mouth off, gasping, still stroking that beautiful cock with his wet hand. 

The words came tumbling out of his mouth. “So fuckin’ good, Holy fuckin’ Christ. You always complainin’ about how puberty came on you and you didn’t grow, but God fuckin’ damn, you sure grew somewhere. Looks so fuckin’ huge over that trim little waist of yours, Jesus Mary Joseph, I -  _ Steve  _ \- ”

Steve’s hips bucked off the bed with a soft grunting breath. Bucky sucked the head of Steve’s cock back into his mouth just in time to take it, to feel the shots coming up Steve’s length under his hand, feel him pulse and fill his mouth so he’d have Steve’s oily-musky taste coating his tongue for hours.  _ Yes. _

Once Steve was finally wrung dry, Bucky pulled off real slow, shivering his tongue so Steve yelped. Bucky slid up Steve’s body. Those pretty eyelashes were fluttering in the colored light.

Bucky waited for the moment to break, for Steve to look - at his scars, at the things that had been taken from him. For it to be over.

But Steve, Stevie, his eyes stayed dead on Bucky’s face. “...mmm, Bucky?” he yawned, the picture of a sleepy smile. He leaned up for a kiss, then wrinkled his nose. “You smell like a dancehall.”

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my first fic!! I hope you liked it. It’s almost a remix of Dira Sudis’ lovely “Sleepy” - I read that one, went from there to the [Kinktober prompts](https://kinktober2017.tumblr.com/post/163962052261/kinktober-2017), and started getting ideas. Hopefully I’ll be able to post a few more before the month is out.
> 
> Please let me know if there's anything I should do differently!


End file.
